Dark Desire (27 page)

His hazel eyes darkened as he looked at her, but the flecks of gold and green in them seemed to glow—as if fueled by his lust. He brought his hands up, cupping her now bare breasts in gentle reverence, weighing them in his large, warm palms. Eir groaned when his thumbs caressed her nipples, her hand gripping him tighter, making Mason’s eyes roll back in his head.

Mason bent at the waist, lowering his head to one of her breasts, forcing Eir to release him. She ran both of her hands through his hair, holding his head to her as he expertly tortured her with his tongue, teeth and lips, tugging at her peaked nipple.

“You taste so good,” he rumbled, his voice vibrating through her. She shivered, goosebumps breaking out on her skin. Eir could feel her knees giving way, but Mason scooped her up and moved towards his bed.

He laid her down gently on her back and lay on his side facing her. He cupped her breast again, his thumb and forefinger plucking at her hardened nipple. Eir let out a shuddering breath, focusing on how he made her feel.

She pressed her legs together to quell the intensifying pulse building there. Mason gave her breast one last caress before his fingers began inching further down her body. He stopped and met her eyes when his hand reached the edge of her underwear.

She could see he was asking permission, and she gave it with the slight bob of her head. His fingertips skimmed over the lace, reaching between her legs. Eir gasped as a surge of electricity rushed through her body.

Mason’s smirk told her that he knew what he was doing to her. He pulled his hand away for a moment, then swept it down again, between her thighs. The more times he did that, the hotter and more wound up she became.

It got to a point where she was begging Mason just to touch her, without her underwear in the way. She watched as his fingers slid under the pale blue lace. Eir hadn’t thought the sensations could have been any more intense, but she’d been wrong. Skin-to-skin contact was so much better.

“Christ, Eir, I want to taste you.”

“Taste?” she asked.

He flexed his fingers against her clit, making her arch her back. “Taste,” he repeated on a growl.

“Oh,” she breathed, lifting up her hips as he tenderly removed the scrap of lace from her body. He took his time, sliding her underwear down her long legs leisurely, deliberately. His eyes never left hers and that complete focus from him made more moisture pool between her thighs.

He flicked the lace over his shoulder before lowering his face to the juncture between her thighs. The first dip of his tongue set every one of her nerve endings on fire. She moaned, spurring him on.

He alternated between long, languid strokes and sharp flicks of his tongue against her clit. The pressure kept on building, building, until it reached a crescendo that Eir had no way of escaping.

She felt the ecstasy sweep over her body, starting in her center and working its way through her body like quicksilver. Her spine arched off the bed, but Mason stayed with her, his fingers wrapping around her hips, bringing her back down onto the mattress. With one final stroke of his expert tongue, she gave in—screaming and gasping—to her pleasure.

When her head cleared, and her eyes fluttered open, she found Mason staring down at her, a satisfied expression on his face.

“That was …” she began, but couldn’t find the words to finish her thoughts. She was too strung out, a slave to Mason and what he could do to her body.

He licked his lips seductively, and she felt the muscles in her lower belly tighten. She didn’t think she could be ready for another orgasm like that, but when Mason looked at her in that way, she felt as if anything was possible.

The mattress shifted as he crawled up to lie beside her. She let her gaze travel up the length of his muscular body until she reached his face. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around his erection, reveling in how it twitched against her palm.

She slid her hand down further to the base, then back up again—always watching Mason’s face. His eyes were closed; his mouth was slack. Eir continued, tightening her grasp a little, enjoying his sharp little intakes of breath. She was on her third pass when Mason’s hand landed on hers, stopping her.

“If you keep going, I’m not going to be able to last.” His voice was rough. He slid her fingers free, bringing her hand up to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss along each of her knuckles. Moving down, he brushed his lips against the delicate skin of her inner wrist, then made his way down to the crook of her elbow and on to her shoulder, her neck and then her mouth.

“I need you,” he commanded possessively, nipping at her collarbone.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”

Grazing his teeth along her skin one final time, he leaned over and pulled something out of the top drawer of his bedside table. Mason moved off her, tearing the foil packet and rolling the condom over his length. Eir watched on—fascinated—before he pinned her lower body to the bed, his erection lying thick, hot and heavy between them.

Now she was nervous. There had been other men before who had touched her, who had brought her to orgasm, but never as intimately as Mason had in the last hour.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Mason looked down at her, his hips cradled in the dip of hers, the tip of his erection now pressing against her.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice. “We can stop.”

“Mason, no. I don’t want to stop. Just … take it slow, okay?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, gently easing into her. Eir gasped, and he stopped, breathing hard. A frown formed between his eyes. “Eir? Are you a virgin?” he asked uncertainly.

She looked away but nodded. Mason tilted her face back to his.

“Don’t hide from me.” He smiled gently. “You should have told me.”

She could feel the tears beginning to form. “I didn’t want to seem inexperienced.”

Leaning down, Mason kissed away the first tear that slid down the side of her face. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered.

Eir stared up at him, unable to believe that Mason could have been any more perfect.

“Do you want to keep going, or would you like me to stop?” he asked, his eyes serious. She knew if she’d told him to stop that he would have.

Just like that.

“Don’t stop,” she breathed, leaning up and claiming his mouth with her own. Sliding her tongue past his lips, she felt him groan against her, his hips starting to move once more. Eir tried to breathe through the pain, telling herself that it was necessary and that it would be over soon.

Mason found his rhythm, but still went slowly, like he had promised. She could tell he was struggling with the pace, but he didn’t speed up and he wasn’t too rough with her. He simply made love to her, just as she’d asked him to.

“Oh, Christ, Eir.” His words were muffled against her neck. “I’m not going to last.”

“That’s okay,” she said. “You’ve given me a mind-blowing orgasm. Now it’s my turn to give you one.”

She tilted her hips up, giving him a different angle, a deeper angle. The sharp pain brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she forced them away. She didn’t want Mason to know he was hurting her.

She urged him on by meeting him thrust for thrust until his whole body began to shake.

“I’m so close.”

“I know,” she said. “Let go.”

Mason’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment, his body shuddering above her. He gave a loud groan and was finally silent, the only noise his labored breathing mingling with her own.

After a few long seconds, he propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her. “That was amazing,” he said, running his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was it for you?”

“Perfect.”

“I didn’t hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I knew it was going to hurt, but you made it bearable. You made me want to do it again.”

His mouth turned up in the corners. “You do?”

“Only with you. I only want you, Mason. Always.”

“Yeah?” he asked, still smiling.

“Yeah. I knew you were special when we met. Now, I know why. You’re caring and loyal, sweet and considerate. You’re everything I want in a man.”

Mason leaned down and kissed her deeply and passionately. “I really care about you, Eir. I know I shouldn’t say it so soon, but it’s true, and I don’t expect you to say the same back to me—”

Eir stopped his babbling with a kiss. “I know.” She wasn’t sure she was ready to bare her soul to him yet, but she knew her feelings for him were like nothing she had ever felt before.

Very carefully, Mason slid free of her body and propped himself up beside her, cradling her close to his chest. She could feel her eyes getting heavy, but she wouldn’t let sleep dissuade her from asking what she really wanted to know. Clearing her throat gently, she asked, “Mason, why were you really running?”

He grunted, as if he’d been almost asleep. “What?” he asked, his voice rough.

“Why were you really running?”

His breath was warm against her neck. “Because if I couldn’t look after Sophie, how was I supposed to look after you? I’d already let you down once by not being there for you. What if next time I’m too late?” He drew her close against him. “I couldn’t live with myself if you were seriously injured and it was my fault. When … when Hunter died, I was very close to ending it all then, too.”

“What stopped you?”

He chuckled. “It was Bryn, actually. She saved me by giving me a job, by giving me a purpose in life.”

“Bryn is pretty amazing that way.”

“And she also brought me to you. And for that I will be eternally grateful.”

They were quiet for a moment. “Please don’t leave me,” Eir whispered. “Not when I’ve just found you.”

Mason’s arms tightened around her body. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Taer paused briefly before walking into the War Hammer. Alistyre gave her a leery stare as she passed the bar on her way to Aubrey’s booth, hidden out of sight at the back. He was supposed to be introducing her to someone today, but he wouldn’t tell her who it was, and the uncertainty was setting her nerves on edge and tying her stomach in knots.

She reached the final barrier between her and Aubrey, the half wall sheltering the elf from view of the general public. Taer let out a breath, shaking out her arms and loosening the tightness in her neck.

Rounding the corner, Taer let her gaze first settle on Aubrey. Her body heated in its usual way as his eyes perused her. He gave her a grin loaded with sexual tension. For the sake of her sanity, she forced her focus somewhere else, concentrating on the unfamiliar male sitting beside the light elf.

She knew he was a Mare with just a look, but she couldn’t have been sure he wasn’t a Walker. His dark brown hair was brushing the tops of his shoulders, his ice-blue eyes wary as he watched her. His skin was pale, and his mouth was a little too full for a male.

“Sit down, Winter Fox,” Aubrey murmured, amusement in his voice. Taer shot him a nasty look before pulling out a chair from a nearby table and sitting down.

“Who’s he?” she asked tersely.

“Winter Fox, this is my associate, Zarail.”

Zarail nodded stiffly, his tight expression unchanging. Taer kept her face blank as she stared at him. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know what to think of him, and until she did, she would treat him as if he was her enemy.

“Why is he here?”

“Zarail has some information about Darrion that you might find … enlightening,” Aubrey said, less snide now, and more serious.

“What does he know?” Taer directed her question at Aubrey.

“I know a lot,” Zarail replied, his voice much gentler than she had expected it to be, drawing Taer’s eyes in his direction. “Darrion and I were trained together by Njord.”

“Who?”

“Njord was the god who recruited us after our families were killed by Odin and his Valkyries.”

Taer heard the undercurrent of rage in his words. “So this god—Njord—trained you?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Why would he do that?”

“He was building an army against Odin, using our rage and thirst for revenge to his advantage.” Zarail’s gaze hardened. Odin had hunted their kind since time began—Taer knew that. What she hadn’t known was that someone had tried to form an army against the All-Father.

“Darrion was part of this army?” she asked.

The Mare shook his head. Taer was confused. “But you said—”

“He wasn’t part of the army. He was the
leader
of it. Njord made Darrion the master of us, and it was a job Darrion took very seriously.”

Taer sank further back into her chair, her mind churning. “What’s your beef with him?” she asked. She saw Aubrey’s pale brows shoot up. “Why now?” she said.

“I’m sorry?”

“Why am I only hearing about you now? What’s the catch?”

Zarail and Aubrey shared a look.

“Winter Fox, you have to understand something about Darrion,” Aubrey said.

Taer seethed, her mood going from pissed off to downright irate. “Oh yeah? What else is there to understand about him? I’ve seen firsthand how sadistic he can be.” Pulling down the neck of her shirt and hoodie, she revealed the thick, ugly scar across the base of her throat. “I’ve
felt
it. So don’t fucking try to lecture me about the intricacies of Darrion’s cruelty.”

Her words came out as a savage snarl, but it looked as if neither of them had heard a word she’d said. Their eyes were on her neck. She adjusted the collar of her hoodie to cover it up and they looked away.

“Darrion did that?” Aubrey asked fiercely. He looked ready to kill Darrion with his bare hands, and the thought … warmed Taer.

Taer sat forward in her seat, elbows on the table. She needed answers, and she needed them yesterday. “You said you know Darrion? Then tell me this—what’s his weakness? How can I get to him?”

Zarail looked at Aubrey uncertainly. “You can help each other here,” Aubrey told him, his voice still stained with anger.

When Zarail hesitated, Taer turned to Aubrey. “What’s this all about? And who the hell is he?” She glared in Zarail’s direction. “I want to know what’s going on here!” When neither of them answered her, she stood up abruptly, her chair rocking precariously, nearly toppling over.

“Winter Fox—” Aubrey began.

“Fuck you,” she snapped, turning around, but stopping when Aubrey spoke once more.

“
Taer
, wait.”

Against her better judgement, she bit back another curse and turned towards the men. She arched one brow, inviting Aubrey to say more.

“Sit back down and I’ll tell you everything.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she stayed where she was, waiting for him to give her something, but it was Zarail—not Aubrey—who spoke.

“Over a thousand years ago, we tried to take Darrion down.”

“Who’s we?” she asked, being careful to keep her anger in check.

“Me, along with another trainee called Arthon. We had a plan to destroy both Darrion and Njord on the day of the first ever Final Test.”

“How?”

“We contacted Odin. We told him how to find the guild hall where Njord trained us.”

“In exchange for what?” Taer’s voice betrayed her impatience.

“In exchange for a guarantee that Darrion would die. The plan was for the All-Father and his Valkyries to raid the hall and kill everyone except for Arthon and me, but—” He hesitated. “We were both involved in the Final Test, and we knew that one—maybe both of us—could die.”

The Mare sighed in relief, as if saying the words had lifted their weight. “We were the final two in the arena. I killed Arthon just before Odin arrived. I was able to fade out of there, so I had no idea whether or not Darrion had been killed. It wasn’t until late in the eleventh century that I realized he’d survived the raid and he was … thriving.

“For centuries, I’ve watched Darrion amass power and Walkers. He rules with an iron fist, giving his Mares no choice but to give their lives to him. I’ve watched him kill his longest-serving Walkers when their century-long contracts were finished. I’ve watched him threaten the lives of his Walkers’ families in order to keep them in line.”

There had to be more to it than just that, Taer thought. What did Zarail have to gain from Darrion being taken out of the picture completely? She didn’t know Zarail, but she could see he wasn’t some goddamn good Samaritan.

She let her silence do the talking, and when Zarail stared back blankly at her, she turned to Aubrey. “Can I speak to you privately, please?” she asked, her jaw tight. When his top lip curled up in a sly grin, she resisted the urge to slap it off his face. Getting to her feet, she stalked further into the back of the bar, feeling Aubrey following behind her.

“What is it, Winter Fox?” he asked.

“I’m not buying it, Aubrey. What’s the fucking catch? Why are you introducing me to this guy now? Why not the first time I asked you about Darrion?”

Aubrey sighed, and she noticed just how weary he looked. “Zarail is a business associate of mine.” Taer rolled her eyes at his words, but he pressed on. “I’m looking to expand our business and Zarail is going to head it up.”

“I still don’t know how I come into your grand plans here.”

Aubrey’s eyes darkened. “Aside from being thoroughly enjoyable company, you’re also the key to removing Darrion from the equation. You want him dead, and so does Zarail, although I believe you’ll be more successful in your attempts.”

Taer snorted. “I don’t see how. Zarail has over a thousand years of fighting experience on me.”

Aubrey shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. Yes, he trained to become a Walker, but once he faded from that arena, he swore he’d never do it again. He swore he’d never kill someone because he’d been ordered to.

“Plus, you and Darrion have a stronger connection than Zarail and Darrion do. He’s not even sure that Darrion remembers him, really.”

“How am I supposed to help? What do you want me to do?” she said, exasperated.

“All you have to do is kill him—remove Darrion completely. You’ll have your revenge and the way will be paved for us to expand our business ventures.”

“And how in hell am I supposed to do that? I have no idea how to hurt Darrion. As far as I know, he was born to some goddamn heartless monster and he has ice running through his veins.”

She saw a spark of something in Aubrey’s expression—guilt, almost—and was instantly wary. She spun around to walk off, but his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist. She pulled free immediately.

“Winter Fox,” he pleaded, “just hear us out.”

She bared her teeth at him. “Or what, huh? You’re not going to help me by telling me what I need to know?”

When Aubrey only blinked back at her, she knew the answer. “You’ve got to be fucking with me, Aubrey.”

“Taer?” Aubrey whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. It was her name on his lips that stopped her from pushing him away. Her eyes fluttered shut, her heart so desperately wanting him to say it again. “Please. We can both benefit each other here,” he said. “We all want Darrion dead. You have the skills; we have the information you need to make it happen. Don’t let your pride get in the way of that.”

Taer’s rage was still simmering below the surface when she returned home to the club more than an hour later. She’d returned to the table, sat down and listened to everything Zarail had to say. She’d learned what she’d set out to learn—now all she had to do was get into Darrion’s head and destroy the bastard.

Korvain and Bryn were sitting quietly on the couch together when she arrived back at the apartment. With Bryn’s head resting on Korvain’s chest, their legs were twined together as they watched the early-morning news bulletin. There was another story about a Boston woman who had been killed. The police still had no idea who was committing the crimes, but they were warning citizens to be aware.

She slipped away into her bedroom unnoticed, shutting the door firmly behind her. Peering over to Eir’s side of the bedroom, Taer was relieved to see the Valkyrie wasn’t there.

Things with Mason must have gone well. Taer found herself smiling at the situation. She’d hoped Eir would find some happiness again after Kristy’s death, and if that was with Mason, then she was truly happy for her.

Placing her katana beside her, Taer stretched out on her bed, her hands behind her head. She was still mulling over the information Zarail had given her, trying to figure out how she was going to go about attacking Darrion’s shields. Taer rested one hand on the handle of her sword and closed her eyes.

She allowed herself to remember the Darrion she had known, conjuring up the terrifying images of her brother’s former master. She forced herself to remember the last time she’d seen him—the time when he had killed Adrian and left her to die, surrounded by his blood.

She could feel the sharp bite of his blade at her throat; smell the metallic tang of the blood. As the memories bombarded her, her breathing grew quicker and harder until she was panting, her stomach in tight knots and sweat pouring down her back. It was only when she moaned, when the sound seemed to echo as if she was standing in some vast space rather than her bedroom, that she realized she had infiltrated Darrion’s dark and diseased mind.

Opening her eyes, Taer cautiously looked around her. She was standing in a room, the roughly hewn wooden floorboards creaking under her weight. The room was filled with a warm light, although she couldn’t see where the source was coming from. With her hand tightening on her blade, she looked over her shoulder.

She saw a stone fireplace, the cold ashes from the last fire still lying in the hearth. Something caught her eye there in the ashes—something small. Crouching down, she rested her sword across her lap and fingered what appeared to be a bronze brooch. She scratched at its surface, revealing what looked to be Odin’s valknut—three interlocking triangles.

It seemed to have been thrown into the fire and forgotten about, but it was well known that dishonoring Odin in such a way was to bring wrath down on whoever had committed such a crime. Taer threw the bronze back into the ashes and looked around the area surrounding the fireplace. To the right, there was a small hatch in the wall, the door opened just a slice. Without bothering to look inside, she stood up and turned around, her sword hanging down at her side.

On the wall to her left, she saw a door—the wood held together with large iron rivets. On the wall to her right, she saw a mirror image of the first door, and in front of her was a third door, but this last one looked as if it had been sealed up tight.

She stepped towards the first door, the one on her left, her fingers reaching out to touch its iron handle. Turning the ring, she pushed the door open slightly, waiting to see if someone or something would come to investigate.

When nothing happened, she gently toed the door open further, holding her sword before her as the light from the joining room spilled out onto her feet. Looking through, Taer surveyed a room identical to the one she was standing in.

It was empty, except for a fireplace, a sealed-up door on the adjacent wall and another door directly opposite her at the other end of the room. Taer walked quietly through the room, keeping her senses alert. She glanced at the small hatch and the fireplace as she passed, noticing the same dead ashes in the hearth as before, but also noticing the charred piece of jewelry she had thrown back in.

Taking a closer look, she could see the imprint of her thumb from where she’d wiped it clean.

“Impossible,” she breathed, looking back toward the door she’d come through. She stood up and strode back to the doorway, looking inside. The room she was staring at was identical to the one she was standing in.

What. A. Mindfuck.

Marching over to the sealed door, she pressed her nails into the edges, trying to find a way to open it. But no matter what she tried, no matter what she did, the door simply wouldn’t open. Then she went back and tried the sealed door in the first room. It was the same there—the door was fastened shut. Approaching the door she hadn’t opened on the other side of the room, Taer twisted the handle and pushed the door open. It mirrored the other two rooms, right down to the smudge of her fingerprint on the valknut in the ashes.